


Wasted and Wounded

by barakatballs



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Mature for Future Chapters, WWE - Freeform, ambrollins - Freeform, dean's p.o.v. sorta, i spelled that wrong right?, makes sense really, this was written so weird like idk exprimental writing, title comes from bon jovi's bed of roses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barakatballs/pseuds/barakatballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean reflects about him and Seth</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted and Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> So look.  
> I got a prompt - crying - so I promised a small drabble but NOPE, this mess came out and I have no idea where it spawned from. It was experimental writing after reading The Bluest Eye so I can blame that, but this is trash, trash I sorta like but cringe at. music also had to blame (bed of roses - bon jovi, there is a light that never goes out - the smiths, one love - pat benatar all on repeat) so you should take a listen. this briefly touches on dean's background, which I have no accurate facts on so I winged it. deals with the shield meeting as well but how I imagined it, of course it didn't happen like /that/ but it's a fanfic.

The ashy remains of cigarettes and stinging vodka is all Dean could piece together from the previous night. A tremendous pounding attacked Dean's head as he rose from his curled position on the carpet of the hotel room. Crummy eyes fluttered open to decipher through hazy vision the red blur from the table.

4:13 a.m.

Bloody fingers were curled around a shattered vodka glass, the wounds still fresh.

A hand caressed the carpet, searching for some leverage. Except Dean grimaced, the prickle of glass met his fingers. From the corner of his eyes, a clear vision of the mini-fridge was in his sight. The bulb was out but the dim light outside, illuminated the scattered, empty whiskey, vodka, gin, and the classic Heineken bottles.

But Dean was not unfazed.

He knew exactly why his room was trashed.

Why all the liquor was in his system.

Why he woke up on the floor.

He knew who was to blame.

It was his entire fucking fault.

Dean spat at “soul mates”, bullshit nonsense he would call it. Were his dysfunctional parents the definition of soul mates? What love did they express so vividly? Was it the bruises that tainted his mother’s pale skin, or the scent of cheap alcohol that lingered on his aging father? Every woman and man Dean slept with was a fuck toy, a one night only rat. They were meaningless to him, if they were a good fuck, maybe he’d keep them for another week or two.

Dean Ambrose didn’t believe in love. Platonic, sexual, affectionate, whatever, he called bullshit on it. Love was the emotion Dean never received, earned, or gained. He relied more on lust. It was more rewarding than whatever love had to offer.

Yes, Dean Ambrose did not believe in love or believed, he would ever “fall in love” because he knew it wasn’t real, just a used gimmick in movies. It was fake Dean assured himself and he was perfectly fine with that.

Then, some prick named Seth Rollins stumbled into his hectic life.

At first, Dean dubbed it as arousal.

The flexibility of Seth’s lithe body fascinated Dean. In fact, Seth’s body itself fascinated Dean.

How lean yet powerful his body was, the muscles that caressed the tan skin – it was breathtaking. He has to be surreal Dean’s mind would say every time he caught a glimpse of Seth. He had never seen anyone like him. The others were walking chunks of beef and some titans from another world, yet Seth – he was cosmic. Perhaps it was how Seth presented himself. First impressions usually came off as the cocky asshole who couldn’t throw a punch, yet a second later Seth would curb stomp your face into the floor. Maybe it was how dorky he looked, yet simultaneously tempting. The split golden chocolate hair seemed tacky to Dean’s impression, but when the morning after and Dean’s coarse fingers ran through them, he realized it was perfect for Seth. It symbolized his so called split personality. In the ring – and bed - he was dominant, ruthless, a raging ball of fire set loose. Outside, he was the pure definition of a goof who devoured sushi as if he had not eaten for days. The one who would break into song at the most random of moments, or recite Harry Potter spells from memory.

For Dean Ambrose, this was the first time he had fallen in love.

But he could never admit it; he knew the consequences were too dire and painful.

His eyes were set for success, a constant reminder he would mutter to himself endlessly everytime Seth would flash a friendly smile in his direction.

“He is the enemy.” Dean’s mind told himself nightly. “He is standing in your success.”

Defeat was never an option.

Glares and threats were thrown in Seth’s reaction by Dean. Whatever “feelings” he had for Seth had to die, Dean couldn’t throw all his hard work for some prick from Iowa.

He has suffered enough.

It wasn’t until when _Seth_ was throwing the glares and threats towards him that it clicked to Dean.

He was in love.

The words stabbed Dean, stabbed deep into him that _looking_ at Seth brought pain.

But who could he blame?

It was entirely his fault.

It wasn’t until they split ways, the two reconnected. At a crummy old bar, of all places, almost midnight. Dean was celebrating.

WWE signed him.

What a time to be alive.

Although, there was slight catch, one Dean wasn’t so crazy about.

He wouldn’t be fighting solo, no, he would be in a three man squad with two gentlemen he didn’t know.

But he was not stupid.

He signed his contract with a smile.

It was that day when he was told earlier Dean would meet his partners.

Their names were Leati Anoa’i and Colby Lopez.

However the event wasn’t planned well. The original setting – a gourmet restaurant – had its reservations cancelled by accident, and soon a fuss erupted in where the three men would meet until Dean laid down his option.

“Look, just tell them to meet me at Kenny’s.”

Dean had ordered some cheap nachos when a 6’3 Samoan titan wearing his best suit made his way into the bar. It made Dean regret his choice of clothing; he threw on whatever clothes that weren’t in his hamper.

“Are you Jonathon Good?”

Dean cringed at his _real_ name. He didn’t have fond memories as Jonathon Good and sought to rebuild his life as Jon Moxley, then eventually Dean Ambrose.

But Dean forced a smile.

“You can call me Dean.” Dean shook the large hand. “Are you Colby?”

“Leati.” The Samoan smiled as he sat himself on the adjacent stool. “But you can call me Joe.”

“Is that who you’re going as in the ring?” Dean took a sip from his bottle. “I kinda like Leati better.”

The Samoan laughed heartily. “No, no. In the ring, you can call me Roman. Roman Reigns.”

And that’s how Dean met Roman “Call Me Joe” Reigns.

It was several minutes into their conversation and waiting for the arrival of the tardy Colby that Dean realized that this guy kicked his ass back in FCW.

“Wait, you were Leakee right?”

“Yes that was me.”

“You kicked my ass, man!”

“Ha, yes I did. Yours and that other man too, what was his name, again?”

“Seth.” Dean answered too quickly. “Seth Rollins.”

How many years had it been?

Hell he couldn’t remember this massive titan who hasn’t changed much, but he could remember that stupid name.

“Ah yes Seth,” Roman said as he sipped his drink. “I wonder what ever happened to that man. What do you think, Jon – Dean?”

“Uh I’m dunno,” He acted as if he didn’t care, a careless shrug was what he did, but his fingers clutched his bottle tight. Dean didn’t want to talk about Seth, mention him, or even say his name.

Seth was history.

Dean had his future on sight.

He wanted to change the subject.

“Where the hell is Samoa?”

“It’s an Oceanian country part of the Samoan Islands.”

“So is it part of Hawaii?”

“No, though we were part of New Zealand.”

“Where?”

“Lord of the Rings.”

“Ah.”

Both men had ordered their third meal, laughter and mindless chatter surrounded them, memories were told along with their expectations and hope from WWE.

“So is it like SWAT gear?”

“Yup all black gear.”

“What are we gonna call ourselves?”

“I think we should wait for Colby to arrive to discuss that.”

An hour later and Colby still had not showed up.

“Where the hell is that Cody?”

“Colby,” Roman corrected.

“Whatever,” Dean was irate. “I hope he’s useful, I don’t want some dead meat holding us back.”

“Calm down, Dean.” Roman slid himself off the stool much to Dean’s surprise. “I’m sure something popped up,” Roman pulled his sleeve back, his watch in visible sight. “Well it was a pleasure meeting you Dean.” Roman flashed his pearl white teeth smile as he outstretched hand.

“Whoa you’re leaving already?” Dean shook the hand being polite. “It’s not even 10:00.”

“Ha, I know Dean.” Roman chuckled, pushing the stool in. “But I have to return to my daughter, I don’t want her to be worried sick.”

Dean almost choked on his beer.

“You have a kid?” Dean wasn’t disgusted or appalled, but he was surprised due to the fact Roman was a father and signed to WWE. Both men knew that meant never living stable, they traveled frequently and were distant from family. It wasn’t healthy for the children. “How old is she?”

“Joelle is four, thank you.” Roman smiled at the thought of his daughter. “And you know how little kids are, I hope you understand but I have to get going.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean nodded. “Understandable.”

“Thank you,” Roman patted Dean’s arm. “And if Colby ever shows up, tell him he needs to stop being so damn late.”

Roman exited the bar with a final wave to his partner and possible new friend, Dean.

10:24 the clock read, empty bottles surrounded his spot, Dean was going to go home. Whoever this Colby was, he already earned getting on Dean’s bad side.

Dean couldn’t even look for the guy in the bar, how the hell did the prick look like? Annoyed and mildly drunk, and having no intentions to ask every single guy in the bar what their name was, Dean slid off his stool sloppily.

“Man watch where the hell you’re going!”

Dean staggered a bit, maybe he overestimated how much alcohol he consumed.

Yet his senses shot up when he heard that voice.

_I know that voice._

“God damn it you spilled my drink all over me!”

_It couldn’t be._

“Hey, don’t you hear me?”

_Seth?_

Two large hands clutched Dean’s shoulders, spinning the inspecting man around and pressed Dean’s back into the bar ledge. A fist reared back, aimed directly at Dean’s head until suddenly, the fist fell.

“Dean?”

It was if Dean had gone back in time. Seth looked exactly the same, more features were defined, yet he seemed he had not aged at day.

Again, Seth had to be surreal.

“Holy shit, Dean I’m sorry.” Seth released his grasp, running his hands over Dean’s chest to straighten the shirt, unaware of the effect it was having on Dean. “I didn’t recognize ya.”

Speechless, completely speechless Dean was. What could he say? What was the last thing they said before they departed? What was Seth doing here?

“Dean?” Seth’s brow rose. He was equally shocked as well to see a old face, but Dean’s stare was intense as if he saw a ghost.

“Seth?” Dean muttered. “Is that really you?”

The slight gap in Seth’s front teeth always amused Dean. Soon, Dean found his lips twisting upwards when Seth flashed a smile. “It’s good to see you again Dean.”

Giddy.

Such a childish feeling, yet it defined how Dean felt. The way Seth blushed as he apologized the second time, saying it was no big deal about the spilled drink that it was drying quickly, sitting down next to Dean, eager for a conversation.

Dean didn’t know what to say, his words ranged from “Uh-uh,” or “Wow really,” and “Me too.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Dean finally managed to say.

“I’m waiting for someone.” Seth chuckled, “Though I think either them or I got the time wrong.”

 _He was waiting for someone_ Dean felt tightness in his chest _He’s on a date._

“Oh.” Dean managed to say.

Seth didn’t seem to notice Dean’s sudden change of behavior. “What are you doing here?”

_I got signed to WWE, met a one of my partners and the other one is still M.I.A._

“I was meeting someone.”

“Oh.” Seth acknowledged Dean’s comment. “That’s good.”

The tension was growing between the two men.

Dean knew how this would turn out, he didn’t want to face it, and sought to escape.

“I hope you find the guy, Seth.” Dean quickly gathered his belongings, sliding off the stool in a panic rush. Dean wasn’t going to risk it. “But I need to go.”

“Dean!” Seth called, jumping off and running after the fleeing man. “Dean, wait up!”

The door swung open as Dean made his way out, waving a free hand frantically in hopes a cab would notice. Quickly.

But Dean knew Seth was the fastest.

“Dean where are you going?” Seth stood appalled by Dean’s sudden action. “I thought we were having a good conversation.”

_Don’t talk to him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t talk to him._

“Dean please don’t ignore me _again.”_

 _“_ Look Seth,” Dean spun around. He couldn’t be near Seth without feeling so vulnerable, the way Seth’s hand felt on his chest for those brief moments gave the grown man fucking butterflies. He wasn’t in love, oh fuck he was. He was in love with that gorgeous fucker and he didn’t know why, and he shouldn’t be. This will probably be their last meeting in years, was Seth worth the pain? “It was great seeing you and all, but I’ve been at the bar for the past three hours, met some Samoan giant and some prick called Colby Lopez hasn’t showed up yet plus then you just barge in outta nowhere –“

Seth clasped his hand over Dean’s rambling mouth “Whoa, whoa. Colby Lopez?”

“Mmhmm-hhmh.” Dean tried to speak.

“Oh sorry.” Seth yanked his hand away. “What did you say?”

“Yeah you know him?” Dean’s voice rose. “Because that prick has kept me and Roman waiting for hours, and I don’t need that type of bullshit because I’m not risking – “

“I’m Colby Lopez.”

Dean’s eyes widened so big, Seth took a step back.

“What did you say?”

_No, no, no, no. Not him, no this can’t be happening, nope, nope, nope._

_“I’m_ Colby Lopez.” Seth pointed to himself then towards Dean. “And you’re Jonathon Good?”

_Seth is Colby. Colby is Seth. Seth is my partner. Of all the people on this Earth, it had to be HIM._

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

**Author's Note:**

> what the hell did I everloving fucking write?  
> I dunno, it's gonna be continued tho.  
> thanks if you actually read it, thank you, you nice human being or alien.  
> got questions? > southernviolenceambrose > tumblr


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